Subdivision
by CriminallyCecy
Summary: An Elite force of highly trained Agents work in this secret government web, and David feels responsible for sending one of them into their midst. A decades-old case resurfaces as he begins to yield to signs, the unsub who eluded he and Gideon, is back, and he wants something David took from him. Many original Characters. Perhaps mini-epic. Crime, drama, mystery, romance, smut.
1. Chapter 1

Lots of original characters in this. I suspect my first epic. I'm very excited. Please, sit back, relax, and enjoy. (I own nothing, or else Rossi would be shirtless in every episode.)

-CriminallyCecy

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Annabeth**

"Hey, Ann…" Clarence Jessup stood awkwardly to his colleague's side, watching her eyes focus and unfocus on something in the park, off in the bushes. "Annie!"

The slight and short brunette stirred from her reverie and looked at Clarence as though she'd only just noticed he was there for the first time.

"What are you shouting about?" She asked calmly, her dark brown eyes squinting against the bright Chicago spring sunlight. It was still cold, the harsh winter leaving slowly and clearly with regret. She tightened the pea-coat around her neck to block out the cutting wind. Clarence gave a miniscule shake of his head, not at all shocked at her distant demeanor, but mostly lost in his own amused thoughts at her hair being whipped about her face, those dark troubled eyes that saw more than any human he'd ever met, always with this adorable pout around her full lips.

"I was going to ask you what you were thinking… Either you have quite a theory going or there is something you like for the murder off in those tree's." Clarence removed his gloves, and added, "The cops will be here soon. Jack sent in an anonymous tip, _a jogger on the trail found her._" He added with emphasis on the lie.

"Yea." She answered distractedly, looking down at the lifeless body of a barely adult young woman, with the same color hair as her, eyes staring wildly upwards into nothingness. "Take some more pictures, I have enough samples." She stalked off the in the direction of their parked Cadillac station wagon, tresses still

Annabeth balled her fists in the pockets of her jacket, aware the gesture needed to be hidden as strong anger unfurled in her stomach. She pictured the dead girls face, streaked with blood, arms sprawled about. Then she clearly pictured the Jane Doe's expression: absolute terror on her face, the last picture of what she saw etched in the rigor around her mouth and eyes as if a silent screaming as to who the sick bastard was. Any detective could deduce she'd died horribly, torture evident after an ME's report – but Annabeth could tell after she'd gently lifted the skirt. She alone knew exactly what that girl had endured, and for what approximate amount of time before she was defiled again, post-mortem. Again, Jane Doe's face. Annabeth shuddered under the realization that seemed to be washing over her again and again, _She looks just like her… _

"I could use a bite." Clarence hopped into the driver's seat with some new energy, quite unaffected by the body still laying lifeless and abandoned in the park in this early morning spring.

"The sun is almost full-up, if the PD doesn't get here soon, someone will contaminate the scene…" She mumbled, still staring in the direction of the body, her whole self rigid in the seat. She hadn't heard about her colleagues hunger, she didn't hear much of what he said most of the time anyways.

"We got what we needed, we got what we came for. Let the local leeches do their job." Clarence put the car into gear heavily, with a grin.

Anna turned her head to observe the muscles which had procured that last line, and a hint of a grin lifted at her lips too. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the dripping disdain, the intense animosity, of a man who hated no one more than tax-paid heroes.

"You never told me about not making the force. How old were you?" She tested, watching his eyebrows and mouth and the artery in his neck all at once. As if on cue, a nerve jumped along his jaw line, at the same time his bit his lower lip. _Eureka. _She thought, wanting to laugh.

"What are you talking about?" _Stalling, _she regarded somewhat irritably.

"Why you even try to lie to me is just beyond aggravating, it's actually quite offensive _Cherie. _" she used his favorite pet name, to balm over his pride. It worked, she saw the slight dip of his head the left, the slight relaxation in his mouth, as he rolled the car easily up to a stop light, the sting of pride easily replaced by annoyance as he began to tap his index finger on the top of the wheel. God, how he hated when she read him.

"I made the force, I didn't make detective." He said gruffly, checking his mirror and looking side to side. It did no good, there was no one to see his gestures but her. And she was interpreting them as they happened. _Disengaging. _She registered, averting her eyes to the street as well, not wanting to upset him any further. A bread delivery truck passed too close for her comfort, in the opposite lane, the grizzly middle-eastern man glaring down into their vehicle at Clarence. _Genuine disgust, _She thought lamely to herself, indifferent to the racism. If there was one thing she knew for certain, color didn't matter as it related to facial expressions, they were the same in all shades of the rainbow.

Reading people, she could not help it. Since she was a child, it had been her savior and her curse. She could tell when her parents and later, foster parents, were getting beyond the point of angry with her, and the pain was coming. She learned early what the adults faces did right before they acted, and later, she would learn there was a science to her natural ability, thought it taught her nothing she didn't already know except hundreds of confusing definitions. Once she realized that none of it interested her, she spent years shadowing the greatest minds of deductive logic she could find. Annabeth had little idea how she'd come to this point in her life, other than she was hell-bent on eradicating the abusers of this world. Eventually she'd turn her unique skill set on the hand that fed her. She smiled openly at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Clarence had been watching her through the corner of his eyes, fearful that she might press him for details about his jacket.

"Larry is. Ever noticed? He has this…" She started to chuckle and snort as she pictured it. "This vein, this vein right here," She poked an index finger on the left corner of her temple, "It throbs purple when he's pissed!" She doubled over now, to the shock of Clarence, who couldn't ever remember the serious Annabeth _ever _laughing, and held her stomach. "I… I look forward to seeing it." She wiped a tear from her eyes. "It is the hardest thing not to laugh at, you know?" She leaned her elbow on the window seal of the car, it's hand propped under her chin as she shook her head. "Larry is hysterical."

Clarence looked almost frightened, she noticed. Clarence feared no one, save Larry. Annabeth doubted very much he'd ever found Larry _hysterical. _ "If by hysterical you mean unbalanced, sociopathic and blood-thirsty, then yea, I'd agree…" he answered, the lie so evident in his voice she need not look at his face to find it.

"You worry too much, _Cherie. _Larry is a peach." She looked at Clarence with something as close to manic as he'd ever seen, a smile so sweet and wicked at once he decided right then and there that he feared Annabeth as well.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

Thank you for reading! Reviews welcome, CM characters to enter the story shortly. =)


	2. Chapter 2

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**David Rossi**

"Wait, what are these?" Doctor Spencer Reid's voice rose and broke slightly, as he bent over the body. Forgetting his slacks, he now knelt in the dew-covered grass, pulling a magnifying glass from his pocket, and peered intently down onto the feminine neck. Aaron Hotchner paused in his steps, warily, but turned around to hear the genius' discovery. Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi also halted, and cocked his head to the side. It was always some incredulous discovery the boy made, Rossi had no idea how the team had ever been successful without the high-IQ functioning doctor on their side.

"What is it, Reid?" He asked gruffly, impatience coloring his voice. He was on edge, Aaron could sense. He didn't like being back in his home town, not one little bit.

"I… I don't know for sure, but it's certainly foreign. There are patterns of blood… or rather the lack thereof… that are inconsistent… it's so small." He bent forward until his nose was nearly on the female body.

"What sort of patterns, Spencer?" Aaron's mouth twisted into a fine line.

"Like… like it was wiped." Spencer looked up into his heroes' eyes quite suddenly, a boy's excitement etched in every line, intrigue like a child's, evident in the pitch of his voice.

"Wiped? You're using a looking glass, Spencer, wiped by a passing boot? A blade of grass?" Rossi asked, disappointed.

"No, like a swab. Not an ear cleaning swab, I mean like… a lab swab...Needle like…" Reid didn't look away from Hotch's face to the impatient clicking of Rossi's teeth. "It was done recently, the blood was dry. I need time." He implored the Behavior Analysis Unit's leader.

"You found a couple scratches and you want to go over this with a fine-tooth comb?" Rossi shook his head and walked away, to the warmth waiting for him in the SUV.

"Forty-five minutes." Aaron looked down at his secret lover, an intense emotion playing around the corners of his eyes.

"Thanks." Reid looked back down and began scouring each inch of the body under his glass, seeing everything under a mind's eye that saw patterns in everything.

"You think he's got something?" Rossi asked, still rubbing his fingers in front of the heater vents in the SUV as Aaron climbed into the driver's seat.

"I trust him." Aaron answered simply, feeling unequivocally that was enough of an answer for anyone on and of his team. They were the best in their fields. If he could not trust their instincts, he would not be leading them.

David nodded his head slightly from side to side, a half-believing emphasis. "God I hate this place." He splayed his fingers to reach the heat, while staring at the familiar old buildings, just outside the park, memories from a decades-ago past life flying through his mind at lightning speed.

"I noticed." Hotch looked at his long-time friend and partner. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"I hope not." David answered blandly, not meeting his friend's gaze.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

_**Fifteen years Ago**_

"Carolyn, _please, _she's _thirteen _for chrissake!" David's voice was shaking with rage, or so he thought. All Carolyn could hear on the other end of the line was fear, and sadness.

"David, my hands are tied, you know how the system works, PLEASE listen to me.." She begged, clinging to the line and twisting the cord between her hands as she heard her ex-husbands heavy breathing, ready to interrupt her again. "Davey… I _know… _I know you're upset…. You and Gideon found her mother… and now she's…."

"Running for her life from the scumbag that's hurting her every night!" David's shouting pierced her ear, and she held the phone at length for a moment.

"We can find her a new family _soon, _Davey, there is NO ONE to take her." Carolyn knew her voice of reason would not be heard, she had realized that only seven months into her marriage with this blustering man. Being a case worker for the state of Illinois had it's incredibly rewarding moments, until her own David Rossi was on the other end, bending her arm backwards to break the rules. She knew the girls plight, pitied her, but she didn't know what to do, and she knew for a fact that David was no prospect for a foster parent. He rarely came home, and when he did, it was with a bottle of Glenlivet and a groupie from a local book club.

"Carolyn. _Please. _I cannot let her go back there." He closed his eyes, and placed a hand on his kitchen counter, the sound of his own voice cracking unnerving him. Somewhere behind him, a calloused, bruised, hand reached for his chin, and pulled his tortured face to face hers. The way she looked at him, with a cloud of curiosity always on her face, looking deeper into him than at the skin that covered his skull… it reminded him of how he knew James David would have been… His son. Who died the same day he was born. She was six years older than he would be now, but still, he somehow knew, his son would look at him that way, curious. He knew he was too close, too emotional, too personally involved. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. This little girl needed him, she _needed _him for Chrissake, he couldn't turn her away. He had failed her once, her mother's killer had escaped…. He wouldn't fail her now.

As Annabeth studied the furrow in his brow and the crinkle in his eyes that let the tears escape, she turned down her lips and shook her head at him. "I'll be okay." He took her small, brave hand in his and let the phone with Carolyn's rambling lower to the counter top. "I'm not sending you back there."

She cocked her head to the side, letting her eyes slowly range over the vastness of his much taller face, reading the sincerity with some frailty. "I'll be okay." She repeated. He knew she meant it, she was used to all forms of abuse, and somehow she managed to be "okay" at the end of it at every turn.

"Are you reading me?" He choked out a laugh, his voice low. His son would have been able to do that.

"You're telling the truth." She said as if she were reading a manuscript.

"I am. I have a friend that will help you." He gently set the phone on the receiver, and Carolyn's voice was silenced. He'd pay for hanging up on her later. Right now, he had to find a way to hide this girl from Child Protective Services.

"Carolyn doesn't want to help." Annabeth said simply, staring now at her hand, swallowed up in the larger one of David Rossi's. She marveled slightly at this oaf, she'd never met an empathetic adult man before in her life. She'd certainly never met one that didn't lie. And she was caught off guard – for the first time in her life she knew what truth and safety looked like on man's face.

"Not Carolyn. Her name is Elizabeth Prentiss, she owes me a favor." David wiped angrily at his tears with his sleeve, a resolve and calm coming over him, and pulled the little girl after him, out of the house, and into his waiting Camero, where they'd make the trip upstate to the Ambassador. She had a daughter, too, surely, _surely, _she would have compassion. As he strapped her in, he found himself avoiding her eyes.

It amused him that she could unnerve him that way. _Curious little girl. _He thought of what his son might've been like again. He realized slowly as he turned the thought over in his head, she wasn't curious or little at all, but that the mask of curiosity she wore was hiding an intelligence in her like an armor guarding her heart, and that there was nothing so little in a girl with such huge courage.

**CMCMCMCMCM**


	3. Chapter 3

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Larry, "The Bull" Lawrence**

"What did the blood samples reveal?" Larry wiped grumpily at the crumbs on his baby-blue, French imported shirt suit, as we walked heavily through the brightly lit halls of Subdivision. Annabeth rolled her eyes as she walked behind her superior, watching with annoyance as he soiled the lab reports with a greasy hand, a hand that had just dipped into a potato chip bag from the other hand.

"It's a positive for Maksim Petyrulich." Clarence answered with a tone of authority. Annabeth wanted to roll her eyes at him as well, but hid herself just in time as Larry stopped short in the halls, and turned around with a stupid grin on his face, chips in one hand and the reports in another.

"Good work. A known associate with the Romanian Numrich. Why aren't you out getting him?"

"_Because. _The girl is Yermolich's fourth wife." Annabeth said with more disgust than she could hide. "Yermolich, as you know, has been underground for over seven years. There's a connection. But it's a trap of some sort. You won't find a government gun-runner's baby mama in a park unless they want you to… This is a taunt, or a goad, either way, a Princess' body usually deserves an Arctic burial." Annabeth reined in her anger, answering with indifference, and a tinge of something else, Larry could not quite identify. He shifted his gaze to the attractive little woman of his fantasies, a sneer building unconsciously at the corners of his lips. Annabeth had seen it before, so she did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction this time. She had no doubt of his intentions.

"And you are positive the I.D. is his wife?" Larry addressed the question to Clarence, his best little dog-bitch. He didn't trust Annabeth as far as he could throw her, which, incidentally, didn't happen to be far.

"Yes sir."

"Well then. Reconvene at 1700 hours, the war-room." Larry thrust the lab report back at Anna, with a force against her breasts, then turned around and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Annabeth curled her lips around her teeth, baring them only for Clarence to see.

"I'm no lie-detector but that looks mighty something like hatred, Annie."

She turned her glare on him, and then smiled sweetly. "You're learning, _Cherie. _" She tapped him delicately on the shoulder with the report folder and walked away as calmly as she could manage, the rage in her boiling into something so hot and untempered she was sure she could kill him now, with her bare hands and teeth, in the plain view of a hundred of the most elite government agents she'd ever meet in her life.

_Elite. My pert little ass. _She corrected her thoughts with a flurry, thinking of the only agent she'd ever known to be a true great. Like the knights of her Joan of Arcade stories of a child, there was only one Sir who she'd ever acknowledge as a real man of grandeur.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Clarence Jessup**

_She really hates him. _He thought grimly, ripping the tie loose around his neck as he closed the door to his rats-hole of an office. It was on the lowest floor, if it could be considered a floor at all. More like the basement of Subdivision, where no one but the lowly sentries passed in cadence to do random inspections of the server rooms. All about the floor and covering every elevated furniture space in his cramped office was folders, files, and random assortments of take-out boxes he and Annabeth left there after long nights studying countless folders and case files, sometimes nameless bodies, most often and to his horror but Annabeth's delight, the putrid faces of known terrorists.

He sighed at the mess, it stressed him to the end of avoiding his office at all costs. His OCD kicked into high gear, as he uselessly attempted to make sense of the mess she nightly left here. He would endure it, as he would anything, for his _mon Cherie. _She was so hyper-focused on her targets she had no thoughts of the mess she left behind, whether that meant paper wrappers or bloodied bodies was of no difference. He defended her in his mind with some annoyance as it battled with his infatuation.

"Goddamnit, Annie." He picked a piece of orange chicken off of a manila folder, sticky and god knew how old. My, but the shit she ate had a way of resisting decay. There was no mold. How she kept that incredibly svelt figure, many would never know if they had seen her eating habits. She could eat anything, literally _anything. _He smiled warily at her survival instincts, as he remembered a time she had quite literally roasted a large rat over a flame, they had been prisoners somewhere in Siberia. She hadn't flinched once. He had vomited repeatedly until it was no use to try and eat anything but the slop they shoved through the door every other day. And then it was the sustenance she had procured for herself which had given her the strength to beat near to death the first guard who showed the slightest sign of empathy at her beautiful tears: big, brown teary eyes, faked in just a way… she had seen the flinch in his face and had acted with snake-like speed to steal the keys and relieve him of his assault rifle. The rest was history. The rest was here, actually, in this office where he now had the privilege of returning, since she had stopped long enough to free him as well. He shivered at the memory, he had nearly died again in the cold dessert as they had trekked for two weeks to a safehouse, somehow surviving alone on her instincts, in the harsh elements.

He snorted and shook his head as he dumped a Taco Bell bag, full of empty hot-sauce packets, into the waste basket. Who was he kidding? Survival instincts… She had them, sure, like anyone… but there was something more. A willpower that drove her on, regardless of whatever situation she found herself in. Will to live for something trumped survival instincts any day, he at least knew that.

Though she had no family, she had no friends. She scarcely seemed to regard him, even, as a partner, so what she had to live for escaped him. He'd never understand her, and he loved it. The mystery that shrouded the woman of his dreams was undeniably her most attractive quality. And Clarence knew it would stay that way, because if he _did _know her, he was sure now, after that manic look she had betrayed earlier today, he wouldn't be so enamored.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

A/N: Hope you're enjoying! I wish I could type as fast as this story is coming to me =) I mostly hope that everyone is intrigued, giddy, and enjoying immensely.


	4. Chapter 4

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**David Rossi**

_**Twelve Years ago**_

"I _know _you took that book from my office. Why won't you fess up?" David mock-glared at Annabeth from behind his coffee mug, watching her face intently.

She smiled and shook her head, looked out the window towards the rain beating down on the diner pane, and then back at him. "You're a pretty sore loser of bets, aren't you? It's been a week, just give up already." She smirked at his face, enjoying their game more than she'd enjoyed anything in her life. "And before you say I'm deflecting, _I didn't steal your fucking book."_

Rossi furled his lips around his teeth and let the hot liquid seep down his throat before pinning her with a more serious glare. "Watch your language."

At this, Annabeth audibly snorted, and replied in a mock-child's voice. _"Words are bad!" _then threw her head back and laughed. David couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, he had no reply for such a short, yet eloquent and logical retort. Damn this girl, she check-mated him at every turn.

"Alright. Words themselves _aren't _bad, but they don't always sound good or further your cause. Perhaps I should have said, choose your words a little more wisely." David rubbed the rim of his coffee cup with a thumb, relaxed, enjoying himself. She had seemed pretty truthful when she said she hadn't taken the book. Which he didn't care a rats ass about, it's just this stupid bet they had to catch one another in a lie, and who could do it first. _She had arrogantly whispered in his ear one afternoon after he picked her up from Junior College, "You'll never catch __**ME**__ in a lie." When he'd happily announced a caper of a partnership of serial rapists. It was a simple enough statement, but she had taunted him, dared him even. He had responded with a like statement. "Miss, __**you'll **__never catch the greatest profiler who ever lived, in a lie." _

"Fuck that." She popped her head up from her hot chocolate, licking whip cream from up her upper lip, and smiling wickedly. The intrusion on his thoughts reminded him of how head-strong she really was. He shook his head at her defiance, he knew it all too well – shit, rebellion was his middle name. He wondered how things were going in her new world, she didn't offer much up – once a week he was allowed to pick her up from school, _college, at fifteen, _he admired, and during the 45 minute rush hour drive through D.C. traffic he grilled her about everything except her home life. She had asked him to drop it on their first visit, and he respected that wish, though it had hurt.

"You're gonna land yourself in a world of hurt." He had said the words before he'd thought of them, and regretted them instantly. He had never met anyone who had lived hurt like Annabeth. She was born into it. She stilled slightly, just barely, and straightened her back. He noticed the body language change and could kick himself. "Bethy I didn't mean …"

"I know." She widened her eyes to keep the tears from falling. "It's Sara, now, remember?" The sting went away almost as instantly as it had come, and she forgave him. "So I need a book from your office." She grinned at the tortured look on his face as it snapped back up to make eye contact with her.

There was a half smile, half grimace on his face. "Well if you're looking for the 37th edition of miniscule expressions, it's gone." He raised the coffee mug to his face again, to hide his humor. He _knew _she had it, and he just hadn't worked out how to prove it yet.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

"You've been staring at that campus the entire lunch, Dave. What's on your mind?" Emily placed a hand on David's forearm to get his attention, and removed it just as quickly when she felt him jump underneath her touch. She hadn't meant to invade his space… She looked over from the diner window and watched Hotch pay the lunch bill, saw Spencer emerging from the men's room with Morgan right behind him.

"Memories." David answered truthfully, remembering his little lie detector. He restrained himself from touching the window pane where she had breathed onto it with a huff, and then childishly placed her nose and mouth on it, then, to his annoyance. _"Someone has to clean those, you know."_ He had chastised, as he put cash on the table. _"Then they'll thank me for job security." _She had answered seriously, without missing a beat. David chuckled. Emily just nodded her head, implying she understood. It was no secret to anyone on the team that he had tried to get away from Chicago many times since his high school graduation, but work and cases had often brought him back.

"We have a new lead on the body, it seems someone in Homeland Security knows who our Jane Doe is." Aaron put his cell phone in his pocket and exited the diner, the team now abuzz with the excitement of a new lead, and followed. Dave turned his head to watch them exit, until he was sure they were gone, looked back at the ordinary window and touched it. "Bethy. Where are you?" The whisper was heard by no one, but something in him twisted wildly. It had been almost four years since he had heard from her. They had gone a couple of years without contact since her eighteenth birthday, but this was different. His birthday and Christmas letters had been sent back, unopened. David sighed, feeling sick to his stomach, and left the diner – _their _diner.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Annabeth**

"Stanwood will debrief you on your new post orders. I have a dinner arrangement. Best of luck, agents." Larry had dismissed himself almost as soon as the small squadron of troops had entered the "war-room" for the new game plan involving Petryrulich and Yermolich and their beautiful Romanian Jane Doe, who happened to be named Elyona.

"Fat cat." Raisha hissed disgustedly, all but resisting the urge to spit. Annabeth cocked her head to the side like a puppy gauging a new sound, and looked coldly at the chocolate-skinned woman as if she were a new species of fish.

"Did our beloved Bull touch you in your bad spot, Rayray?" She asked, in a child's taunt.

Raisha miraculously kept her body from leaping nimbly across the conference table to tear out the throat of her bully, but Annabeth noticed with exquisite pleasure that she had clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes into snake-like slits.

"That's rage, not pain. You'll be fine, little dove." Annabeth patronized, lifting her head back to full-tilt. She gave a simpering smile when Raisha's nostrils flared. _Jealousy, _Anna interpreted as easily as hands that knew silk from cotton. She casually scanned the faces of her colleges, then gave an annoyed look and an exasperated sigh at the shock they all wore on their faces.

"Please, let's go on with the debriefing. Who we gotta scratch?" Annabeth folded the long thin fingers of her hands in her lap, on top of a crossed leg and pursed her lips, attempting to give any impression of full-attention she could stomach.

"Simply put," Standwood began, bending in his important walk about the conference table and making eye contact with a few, "We will bring Petyrulich in alive. He needs to be questioned, and Yermolich – well the orders are to kill on sight. Him, as well as any of his known associates."

_Which means the State department is only looking for someone to hang for Jane's murder, they want Yermolich for information on someone. _Annabeth's mind silently reeled behind an impassive face. Too valuable to kill always meant one of two things, espionage, or evidence for a cover up. She could feel the walls tighten in around her a little. Terrorists were one thing… a woman's cold-blooded murder being used for "the greater good" as Larry called it, sent her blood to boiling. _It might be time to fly the coop…. _She thought calmly of David's words. _David. _She didn't realize the tortured look she wore.

"Is that shame and guilt?" Raisha hissed, palms flattened on the table, feeling triumphant at having caught Annabeth in any emotion other than impassive.

"Sadness, Rayray. It's sadness. And longing." Annabeth answered quietly, an implication in her voice saying she didn't mean Raisha to be an enemy of hers at all. She stood and excused herself, not at all ashamed of her truthfulness but quite ashamed of her slip of emotion. They would never see it again.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

Hoping somebody likes this! I'm quite enjoying it. =D


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Some very light Bondage/Dominance Erotica Content – please skip if you do not like/doesn't agree with you. I don't want to offend. There will be more the like in future chapters, and I'll always give a warning before hand.**

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Annabeth**

_**Ten years ago**_

It was routine by now, she'd been borrowing his books for years, and he couldn't seem to catch her at it. Annabeth fingered the row of leather-bound antiques from David Rossi's personal library. _This _was new, she hadn't broken into his home before. Well, technically it wasn't breaking in, he'd given her a key the day he had introduced her to Elizabeth Prentiss.

She wanted something from his collection that was especially enlightening. Her eighteenth birthday was in two days. "hmmm. Sparks, what do you think of _The sins of the Serial? _She mused aloud as she scratched the mutt's ears distractedly, bringing the bologna sandwich she'd made for herself downstairs to her mouth. "Or how 'bout…" she lifted a hand to pull a dark, emerald green and dusty title from behind a grouping. _Sleeping Beauty_?" She questioned, a bit of bread crumb dangling on the corner of her mouth as she blew the dust from the small book.. It wasn't like David to read fiction at all, especially something with such a childish title. Sparks whined at the absence of her scratching.

Sparks was an ugly mutt; David had complained loudly that she looked as though she had a bad case of mange when Annabeth had brought the pathetic thing to him, a paw bleeding from an apparent car accident. _"You have to keep her, she saved me, Dave, she SAVED me._" David had looked exasperated, and intolerant, clearly struggling between fuming and love for Annabeth. _"She saved you from a skunk, Bethy. She is half dead!" _The poor animal had been starved. Yet somehow Annabeth had convinced him to keep her.

Annabeth swallowed the last of her sandwich, and backed into her favorite high-back leather chair in David's home office. Sparks followed, laying across her feet with a sigh. Annabeth thumbed open the first page. It was empty, except for some scrawl. After studying it carefully she made out the rude cursive, _To my best student, who taught the master. - J.I. _and in the bottom corner, in even smaller writing, she could just make out some numbers, _2401_, some jibberish, then _S.F. _

She leafed through the pages until she found the first page of Chapter One. She hadn't gotten through the first paragraph when she slammed it close, heart racing in her chest and feeling something close to sickly. She opened it again to the first page and reread the personal note. "Sparks, I've found a way to win the bet, I think…" The dog looked up at her and whined, then propped her head back down on the comfy socked-toes. Annabeth went back to the first chapter, with burning curiosity and a definite sense of invading David's privacy, though she couldn't stop herself. Intrigue and daring overcame her, and she had consumed the first chapter in minutes, and closed the book again.

"The prince wakes her from her sleeping spell by forcefully popping her cherry?" Anna's face screwed up in disgust, while she spoke to no one but the dog. It seemed like rape, to her… She remembered the lines of the prince testing, weighing, and pinching the sleeping princess' breasts, and then how after she'd woken he'd informed her that she was now his slave. It was truly opposite and unlike any version of the story she'd ever heard. It made her feel dirty, somehow. She replaced the book and put it out of her mind, she would never be caught stealing that title, and she'd never question David about it.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**David Rossi**

"Elyona Yermolich, age twenty-five, has a son named Nicolai, lives in upstate Jersey with his grandmother." David Rossi read off a piece of paper somewhat lazily. "Cause of death: brunt force trauma to the head _and _three pre-mortem stab wounds to the torso."

"Not to mention the extensive older bruising, look at the splotches on her back and arms…" Spencer carefully eyed the pictures of their victim, hanging on a white board inside the make-shift bull pen.

Emily crossed the small conference room of the Chicago Police Department's cramped offices. "Definite signs of physical abuse."

"Fingerprints were found on a knife ditched about a quarter mile from her body, in a stream. They belong to Maksim Petryrulich." Penelope came over the computer screen with a rush. "We have an address, super agents!"

They were all standing and grabbing Kevlar even as she spoke, though Rossi moved slower, his thoughts were becoming a tumbling-dryer of a mess.

"Why does that sound so familiar?" He mumbled, as he fastened the Velcro.

"What was that, Dave?" Aaron held the door for him as David filed out.

"What? Oh, nothing." Rossi bounded out the door, pushing the nagging thought from his mind that he had heard that name before.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Fourteen Years ago, Annabeth**

Annabeth held her forehead steadily on the door of an old honda, her eyes struggling to focus on the chipping, baby blue paint. Her ears were ringing and though she tried to gasp as a warm liquid trickled from her head down her neck, she hadn't caught her breath yet from the blow to her ribcage.

"Stay down, bitch!" A frightened, adolescent male voice hissed behind her, as he backed into a car parked behind him.

Annabeth moved her head fractionally, and peered up at the perfect day. Clouds passing lazily over a sea-blue sky, and the sun shining just enough to warm her face. How no one could notice on a crowded campus between classes that this was happening to her was disconcerting at best – it was just like one of David's cases. No one saw, no one heard, and some innocent girl would disappear.

_Not today, pal. _She smiled through her pain ruefully, as she looked back down to the pavement, only 7 inches below her face. The black boots of one of her attackers was not very near, though they were prancing anxiously. The voice belonged to the white and blue sneakers, which stood still, and ready to pounce, behind her. Annabeth swiftly removed her pocket knife from her socks and effortlessly lifted it up into her long-sleeve shirt for concealment.

"Is this how you meat-heads caught Lisa unawares? But the Autopsy said she was drunk…." Annabeth stood, and faced her attackers. Young men from the Beta-something fraternity, she recognized them. She also recognized the hatred and fear in their eyes. "So, she was a lot easier to knock down and drag back to the party, right?" She leaned her body against the blue car, fighting to mask her pain as her breathing came back to normal. "Who raped her first?" The tone in her voice implied the three of them shared this sort of normal conversation every day. The two exchanged nervous glances, and she smiled, a mounting rush in her at their behavior. As swiftly as a pro-chess player, her mind danced several steps ahead of them, analyzing several outcomes. They sure hadn't liked her poking around and asking questions after her friends' rape last weekend.

"You're a crazy bitch, you know that?" Sneakers replied.

"Yo man, let's get the fuck outta here, this bitch is crazy, man." Black boots replied, still hopping from foot to foot, ancy, impatient, looking around his shoulders anxiously.

"Scared someone will catch you, James? Or are you just scared you left your DNA on Lisa and the cops know about it?" She cocked her head to the side as she usually did when reading someone, it had a sort of qualifying aspect that set people on edge. She loved that, lived for it.

"I didn't rape that girl." James proclaimed, and instantly she believed that, when she noticed his nostrils flare. _Half truth. _Her eyes interpreted.

"But you did knock her on the back of the head and help dickless-moby over here drag her back to the party." She leaned casually against the chipped-paint car, for a millisecond, relishing the micro-expression of rage that sneakers flushed.

"Shut the fuck up!" white and blue Sneakers shrieked, and lunged for Annabeth, hands stretched in front of him and aimed at her neck. Having anticipated the outburst as she had purposefully provoked it, Annabeth swerved in time to see the young, white male adult slam into the blue car and then scream painfully as he drove her pocket knife into his shoulder blade.

"_You simply cannot play at vigilante, Bethy!" _David shouted, rubbing his temple where a headache was forming, as he paced his home office. He looked down at her placid face, the boy's blood still on her sweatshirt.

"I was attacked for asking questions – it was self defense. You heard officer Mulroney." She gave an incremental shrug of her shoulders.

"Just because you aren't going to jail for assault doesn't mean that _isn't _what you did. I know how you _ask questions, _young lady, and you're playing at a very dangerous game, using your abilities to get people riled up!" He paced a few more steps, aggravation mounting at her self-righteous silence. He stopped to face his bookshelf, his back to her, attempting to steady his breathing. The boys had deserved everything they got, and now because of Annabeth's interference were being detained for questioning in the violent gang-rape case of a college student on _her _campus. He fought with his emotions of pride in her versus his fear for her safety.

Annabeth's eyes were wide, and watching, carefully judging his body language. She relaxed when he finally hung his head and let his shoulders droop. As he pulled his hands from his blazer and turned to face her, she was caught off guard again by what she saw. Fear, and something else… Love? She shunned the thought as instantly as it had came. No one _loved _Annabeth Carson. She was a degenerate foster kid, everyone knew that.

"Promise me you won't do that again?"

"It would be a lie." She lifted her chin defiantly.

David sighed heavily, and scrubbed a hand down a weary face. "Then you'll learn better self defense. You can only crack so many ribs and sustain so many head injuries before that causes permanent damage." He conceded quietly, sadly. This was not the course he wanted for her, but she was untamable.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

**CMCMCMCMCM**

Hotch and JJ stood on either side of an old, mahogany door, in South Chicago Heights. It must have once been a very beautiful door, but now it was just weather torn, and scratched from what appeared to be dog bites. "Mr. Petryrulich, FBI, open up!" Aaron's voice sounded over the yard, his furrowed brow focused on any movement he may hear inside the house. Morgan wore a scowl, standing off near the chain-link fence that separated the homes, and Rossi had made himself small against the outside of the porch's support beam, 1911 pulled at the ready, and somewhat relaxed in his hands.

Years on the job had taught him that a more relaxed grip was a more accurate aim, why Morgan tensed up like a Viper ready to attack was, in Rossi's mind, simply a testament to his age.

"FBI!" JJ rang out, impatiently.

"Max, we're coming in!" Aaron nodded to Morgan, who holstered his weapon and kicked in the door, backing away quickly to allow Hotch, JJ and Rossi to enter before he safely pulled his gun out again and followed.

"Clear!" JJ's voice was heard first, in what Rossi assumed was the kitchen.

"Clear!" Hotch called, from somewhere in the back of the house.

"Hotch." Rossi sighed, entering a make-shift study.

"Clear!" Morgan shouted, loudly, from the backyard. The team had cleared the small townhouse in seconds, and Aaron walked cautiously to the sound of his name.

With JJ trailing close behind, Hotch merely pursed his lips into a thin line, as he entered an odd room where Rossi stood over a male body, Maksim's body.

"Rigor hasn't set in yet, he can't be more than two hours dead… Where's Reid when we need him?" Rossi was bending now, testing the still warm fingers of the Russian man, who wore a look of rage on his face.

"Well that's different." Morgan said matter-of-factly, as he noticed the victim's face, voicing Rossi's thoughts.

"He knew his attacker." Rossi offered, trying to keep his breathing steady as an angry old memory arose in him, Annabeth's words coming swift to his mind. _"See there, Dave? The way his eyes narrow but there's a crinkle between the brows?" Annabeth smiled while she pointed at the man sitting across them, at her Campus Counseling session. "That's mutiny, that is. He's been betrayed. He doesn't like that his pet student is accusing him of sexual harassment." She smiled brightly at the man, then back at David, who was angry as hell but slowly settling his rage as he remembered his interrogation training. "I see it, Bethy. I also see his pupils dilated, and his breathing kicking up; nervous, among other things. You sure can call it, Bethy. Mr. Castaneda, you're under arrest." He wouldn't name the "other things" which were simply arousal. It disgusted him, to think this man had dared try to cop a feel on his Bethy. _

"How do you know that?" JJ asked in wonder, staring at David then back at Aaron as she holstered her gun. Morgan dialed Penelope to send the Coroners.

"That's _mutiny, _that is." Dave echoed Annabeth's words, and left the room suddenly, with his cell phone flipped out.

Shutting himself in the government issued SUV, David's mind traveled back again to another memory, nine years ago…

"Did you have a good birthday?" David asked, eyeing Annabeth with a sideways glance. Walking in the harsh, late winter of Chicago after dark was not David's idea of fun, but she had insisted they visit Hale Park, downtown. She liked to window shop, much to his chagrin. It bothered him that she wouldn't let him buy anything for her.

"Yes!" Annabeth looked up and smiled brightly at David.

"Liar." He grinned, and took her arm in his.

"I'm not. It _was _a good birthday." She lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Alright then, half liar. Jesus, Bethy, when I told you that you get a freebie on your birthday that didn't mean I wouldn't catch it."

"Alright but it doesn't count towards the bet, you _did _tell me I had a freebie and therefore you didn't really _catch_ anything." She smiled at her own cleverness, shivering in the cold.

"So what part was the good part and what part was bad?" David continued to walk slowly on the paved pathway, noticing the moon coming brilliantly from behind the grey clouds, as he removed his jacket and put it over her shoulders.

Shrugging into the large and heavy leather jacket, Annabeth smiled as the warmth slid around her body. "The good part was sleeping in, skipping classes, and listening to classic rock in my pj's all day. And dinner with you, of course. Oh, and, turning eighteen." She glanced up at the full moon, a definite air of aloofness about her he wasn't used to seeing.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't tell me you skipped classes today so you could laze around in your pajama's." David growled. "And why the eighteen part? You've been emancipated for three years…" He trailed off, studying her face beside him while they walked. She was deliberately keeping her face placid, he could tell.

"It's a milestone."

"Definitive truth isn't personal truth, Bethy. Stop being vague." He watched the smile creep onto her face, and mentally groaned. When would she ever stop playing games? He was becoming internally frustrated by the second, and it was igniting his impatience.

"I've just wanted to be eighteen forever. An adult. That's all." She said with a smile on her face, but a tone of sadness in her voice. David stopped walking.

"And the bad part?"

Annabeth looked at his face for a moment to judge his patience. It was ticking down to take-off, she could tell. She looked away briefly, for a distraction. If there was one thing she hadn't learned to abide were those piercing eyes on his face. It made her feel naked, vulnerable… A feeling she loathed but had come to associate with a deep uneasiness around David. If he ever even suspected she'd developed this inane, childish crush on him, he'd run for the hills. No way she was going to tell him she'd been fantasizing forever now that once she turned eighteen, he'd profess love eternal and take her right on the spot. She wasn't completely nuts, even if her peers thought so.

"I don't want to talk about it." Annabeth answered truthfully.

David's patience ran out. He stopped on the old pavement and sighed loudly, an edge of a growl to it. "Annabeth!" He pulled her arm to stop her next step, and she looked up at him with mild shock, a fraction of a second spent on noticing his hand on her arm. "What's going on with you? Why don't you talk to me anymore?"

_Anguish? _She registered, studying his face.

"Stop _doing _that!" He cried, exasperation coloring his voice.

"I..I'm sorry. You know I can't help it." Annabeth took a small step toward him. "Amendment, I don't know _how _to talk about it, alright, I'm just… I'm working on it. I'm in therapy!" She said the last part with mocking sarcasm.

"Therapy? Since when?" David tempered his impatience with concern, lowering his voice to a low whisper. "Bethy, damnit, talk to me?" His imploring was more of a growl again. Annabeth couldn't help but smile at him, it was exactly this sort of bullish behavior of his that amused the hell out of her.

"Dave? Dave!?" JJ knocked forcefully on the passenger side window from the outside. "Hotch needs you back inside."

SSA Rossi sighed and let himself out of the truck. JJ eyed him suspiciously, a hint of worry in her furrowed brow, he noticed with some annoyance.

"Rossi is everything okay? You haven't quite been yourself since we got back to Chicago.." JJ's voice was a comforting whisper. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

"No, I guess not. I don't like coming back here. Too many memories… They plague me." He began to walk back into the town home when JJ fell into step beside him, persistent to a fault.

"Not all of them can be bad, though right? There are always good memories among the bad, aren't there?"

"Sometimes the good memories are the most painful, Jennifer." His voice implied she not push him any further, and yet she went on, ignoring the warning alarm in his voice.

"I think we could use a drink or two, tonight, what do you say?" She _would _get him to talk about it, she had that knack – everyone on the team knew they could talk to and trust Jennifer Jareau. Her feelings for the older man dripped into her words, and David couldn't deny it, there it was – as plain as daylight, JJ cared about him.

"Sure." They had paused on the door-stoop, he looking warily at his team mate and she looking placid and concerned for a friend she cared about.

**CMCMCMCMCM**


	7. Chapter 7

**CMCMCMCMCM**

"So, where have you been going when you get that thousand-yard stare on your face?" JJ grinned into her tumbler, draining the last of the clear liquid.

"I never took you for a gin drinker, Jen." David grinned too, she was already two drinks down, if her intent was to get _him _to open up it was going terribly in the opposite direction.

"Come on, I'm serious, you haven't been yourself since we landed." Jennifer tipped the glass and nodded towards the bartender.

"Memories, I suppose. Worry." Dave looked into the swishing, amber liquid in the tumbler, concern etched in the lines of his brow. Saying the words aloud had been more painful than he thought it would be.

"Worry? About?" JJ dipped her head to force him to make eye contact with her, she was a little alarmed at how serious he seemed.

"A friend of mine. I haven't heard from her in few years, it's not like her." He answered placidly, trying to hide how truly scared he was.

JJ blew a raspberry and put her glass down on the bar a little loudly. "A woman you love dearly and you let her get away? Why are men so damned pig-headed?"

Dave's head shot up and he glared at the petite blonde next to him. "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was barely a hiss of a whisper. Jennifer matched his glare, and narrowed her blue eyes.

"Then inform me, oh great Rossi! I can tell it's eating you up and yet here you sit, doing nothing about it except trying to pretend you're not very affected!" She leaned closer, and slapped the wood she was leaning on for emphasis.

"You're drunk, Jennifer."

"Yes I am. But that doesn't mean I'm not right." JJ answered haughtily. "So why aren't you with her? I mean, it doesn't seem that other than Caroline you were madly in love with the other two wives, yet here you are, stressed for days over this one." She carefully calculated the mutinous look in his eyes before she continued, "You need to talk to someone, Rossi." She added softly.

"For one thing, she's…." He shook his head as if to say _forget it, _before shutting down completely and staring at the perfectly arranged bottles behind the bar.

"She's what, Dave?" JJ urged gently.

"She's far too young." He downed his glass of whiskey and waved a hand, dismissively, trying again to persuade JJ it wasn't that big of a deal. "And besides, our relationship has never been… like that." He hesitated.

"Then what has you so worried?" JJ smiled kindly to the bartender as he refilled her glass.

"She works for the CIA, or… _did _last time I spoke with her. But I don't know if I believe that." He sighed at his loose lips, the whiskey was working. "I need sleep, JJ, and so do you. Let's get a cab back to the hotel."

"Fine, but we're not done with this discussion." JJ took one last gulp of her drink and grabbed her purse to follow David, who was shaking his head as he walked past her.

"I didn't think it would be." He deadpanned.

"God you're fussy." JJ smirked, linking her arm in his, stumbling slightly in her step. Dave felt a twinge of guilt when he felt her arm in his. "And Dave, you should trust your instincts." She added, stopping on the outside stoop of the pub and relishing the night air.

"About?"

"Her. The CIA…. Your feelings." Jennifer allowed a tone of finality in her voice and urged them both forward, casually throwing her free arm out for a cab.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Elizabeth Prentiss Thirteen years ago**

"It is one thing to help emancipate and finance the life of a young girl who never had a chance and desperately needed love and direction. It is another thing entirely to get her an internship with a prestigious, centuries-old crime fighting organization. You've officially lost your gourd, David Rossi." Elizabeth paced her spacious, pentagon office, stopping only to take a long pull from her Bourbon.

"Please Liz, all I'm asking for is just a chance. If she fails out it'll be her own undoing…" David Rossi sat as unthreateningly as he possibly could in a comfortable leather chair. If there was one thing he knew about Elizabeth Prentiss is that she had to feel quite in-charge, and none of his blustering would do his cause any good.

"She's sixteen! David, she needs to be focusing on other things! I know you're not a parent, but I'll tell you for certain this is not the right way of things." The Ambassador faced the tall windows of her bay view.

"What, like Charm School? Emily hated you for that for years!" David was losing his temper but he realized his mistake in insulting her parenting as she threw him an angry glare. "And Emily was raised properly! With every advantage in the world!" He danced carefully to smooth over his mistake. "If Annabeth had half of the poise, grace and upbringing that Emily had I might agree, but… she doesn't. She's bluntly intelligent, she has the mind of a thirty year old with a masters degree, Lizzy." David softened his voice, hoping his old nick-name for his middle school girlfriend would appeal to her soft side.

"You're mad. And I must be too."

David knew he'd won, he'd seen the smile on her face for a millisecond. "I think you're wonderful. And I don't think you'll regret this." Rossi jumped from his spot and crossed the room quickly to brazenly kiss her cheek, to which she blushed. "I already do." She returned icily, but he could tell it was a front.

**CMCMCMCMCM**


	8. Chapter 8

**CMCMCMCMCM**

Chicago Police Department

"He isn't Russian, he's Romanian." Reid pronounced with certainty, his nose close to the picture of Maksim Petyrulich.

"When did Garcia confirm lineage? Did I ask for that?" Aaron Hotchner glanced up at Spencer from his busied reading of the file Garcia had compiled on Maksim's body.

"No, I can tell by his jaw line. Before Stalin took over in – "

"Reid. We get it." David Rossi cut it off gruffly, he wasn't in the mood for a history lesson. Reid bowed his head graciously and went back to studying the pictures on their wipe-off board.

"Sir! You're going to want to hear this!" Garcia's face popped up magnanimously on an open laptop screen near Rossi's seat, he jumped slightly as the machine came to life with her high-pitched voice.

"What do you have Garcia?" Hotch pursed his lips, avoiding eyeing Rossi's odd behavior.

"Petyrulich is part of the Romanian Numrich, sir, a head haunchmen, if you will, to Igor Yermolich – Elyona's husband. The Romanian Numrich is the legitimate front for the – " Reid cut her off.

"For the organized crime syndicates of the old Soviet Union, Igor Yermolich is Russian, the marriage to his first wife, Ana Numrich forged the alliance of the feuding Romanian and Russian mobs – it was a political wedding, she was like a gift from Victor Numrich - but Ana's father mysteriously died only a year after the wedding, and Igor inherited Numrich's post cold-war gun running operation. It wasn't until the 90's when they became a legitimized world power in assault rifle production… Igor did four years in a Romanian prison when he was accused of Ana's death and the death of their first unborn child… there was insufficient evidence to hold him… though, there were suspicious circumstances surrounding the next two wives deaths too, he wasn't even questioned… The question then is did Maksim kill Elyona on Igor's orders?" Reid stopped to catch his breath, a terrified and worried expression coloring his face.

"No, the question is, is the BAU going to take on the Russian Mob?" David calmly sipped the coffee in his hand, the question aimed at no one.

"We're here to solve a woman's murder, Dave, that's what we always do." Aaron snapped at his old friend, appalled at the crass implication that perhaps the BAU should step down.

"Hotch you know as well as I do, we could trollop a lot of deep undercover ops if we don't get clearance from the muckey-mucks in Washington. God knows what sordid things we'd uncover." Rossi held up a hand at the indignant retort Aaron was about to give. "I'm with you, Hotch, I'm not saying we back down. I'm saying we operate in reality here, and keep this team safe. This isn't a run of the mill scumbag, we're talking big potatoes here, Hotch."

"I hear your concern, Rossi. Strauss will make the call." Aaron's voice dismissed Rossi and dared him to speak again.

David simply sighed and stood to leave, it was well past his normal bed time, and though he knew he wouldn't sleep for hours yet, he needed to be alone.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Annabeth and Clarence**

"I don't understand why he sent us here." Jessup complained loudly as he tugged at his tie, he hated suits.

"I'll put it for you in simple terms, _Cherie._" Annabeth stopped in her tracks and turned to face her partner. She was amused at the mild shock on his face. _He doesn't think I listen to him. _ "Larry's higher ups need Igor left alone, and the FBI was called into Yermolich's murder. Can't have anyone asking questions, see, so you and I are here as mommy's-little-helpers." She allowed a moment for Clarence to catch on, and when he didn't she sighed impatiently. "We're here on behalf of Subdivision to get Washington to back off. _This _has something in it that will scare the poop out of whoever reads it. And here is your next lesson, _Cherie, _now that you know the reaction of terror and fear at ultimate demise – because to be sure it _is _ultimate demise being threatened inside this letter - is about to be witnessed, try to recognize the facial expressions as they happen." Annabeth smiled and leaned near to Clarence's ear. "_it's great fun." _Which, she mused, they might as well be having if they were doing such a petty errand.

Clarence smiled weakly and cleared his throat, his spine tingled when she was near him. Delivering threats disguised as well-meaning requests did not appeal to his idea of "Great Fun" but he never felt as safe as when he was with Annabeth. Not since watching her kill a man with the ball of her foot the time they were both tied down and being tortured by way of water-baording as prisoners of espionage in Korea. He shuddered at yet another memory of a near death experience and escaping by the skin of their teeth. _"Please, Cherie, I had it under control the entire time. I needed information." She assured him. "So you LET us be captured and tortured, is that what you're telling me?!" Clarence stammered as his teeth chattered in the cold, cargo ships were no way to travel. "Don't be so dramatic, Cherie, I'd never let anyone hurt you too bad." _

"Let's just…. Deliver the letter and leave. There's no need for lessons on reading people today." Clarence rotated his arms to alleviate some of the stiffness in his blazer.

"Getting scared, Clare?" She grinned to herself at the man walking agitatedly behind her.

"Considering you think drowning and being brought back to life four times isn't letting someone hurt me _too bad _then, yes, perhaps I am scared." He added bitterly.

"Oh come on, haven't you let that go yet?" Annabeth shoved through a door that read _suite 310 _in the lower level of the Pentagon.

"Annabeth Carson, and this is Clarence Jessup. We have an appointment with Walt Grenson."

_She acts so untouchable, _Clarence observed quietly that of course it _was _all an act, he'd seen it before.

"And where are your credentials?" The red-haired old receptionist asked incredulously, this was simply not the office where one announced their name as if that were enough to see the State War Department Chairman.

"Check with Grensen, we'll wait." Annabeth smiled curtly, and turned to sit in a chair directly facing the reception desk. Clarence took her lead, and seated himself next to her, working with some difficulty to keep the smile off his face.

The receptionist looked affronted, but nonetheless beeped into her superiors office. "Yes sir, but they don't have… well yes, of course. Right away, Sir." Rising stiffly and flushing anger, the old woman nodded at Annabeth as if no one could possibly have heard the conversation with her boss. "He'll see you now." Annabeth smiled sweetly, adding a provocative sway to her hips to further incite the womans rage. It worked, Clarence spotted it at once, the poor, pale faced lady's eye's narrowed angrily as Annabeth passed her. Clarence didn't want to laugh, he pitied her. "Thank you ma'am" He bowed a little in acknowledgement as she held the door open for him to pass through.

"Mr. Grensen, pleased to make your acquaintance. Annabeth Carson, and this is – " She faltered in her act, hand extended for a handshake when she saw her.

"Clarence Jessup, Sir, good to meet you." Clarence stepped in.

"Yes, yes, nice of you both to come. Erin, I apologize, we'll have to pick this up again at a later time." Grensen gestured both of them to sit, while politely dismissing Erin Strauss.

"Annabeth Carson, my god, it's been years." Erin politely extended her hand to shake Annabeth's, but the gesture was not returned.

"It has." She replied icily, then sat, and faced Grensen. Erin's eyes widened a bit as a look of doubt came over her face, and Clarence watched the entire fiasco with certain fascination. He'd always known Annabeth didn't get along especially well with other women but he'd never seen her look so hateful – not even when she'd sliced the neck of that bastard Siberia Prison Guard.

"Come for drinks tonight, Walt. The Waldorf has jazz every Thursday night, it's grand." Erin saved face a little, smiling at her old friend who now sat, looking haggard and tired.

"Yes, yes, thank you Erin." She left quietly.

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Well I hope you're all enjoying! I'm still writing for tonight, so there may be another chapter. Hoping more people catch on to this fun story. I'm REALLY enjoying writing it. =D**

**~CriminallyCecy**


	9. Chapter 9

**CMCMCMCMCM**

**Erin Strauss**

"I don't give a damn, David Rossi, get your ass here immediately. I've already arranged the flight, you'll – " Erin rolled her eyes at the blustering man speaking over her on the other end of the line.

"I'm needed here, Erin, you don't understand, I know it's been a while since you've been in the field," David was saying caustically, taking his time to enunciate his words,

"It's Annabeth, David, just get here." Erin hung up the phone as she walked briskly towards the Secret Service guard towards the exit of the last Pentagon doors. "Good day, Ma'am" He said stiffly, as he opened the doors. Erin squinted against the sunlight, and dug in her purse for sunglasses while simultaneously scrolling through her contacts for another phone number.

"Yes, Gunther Greyson, tell him it's Erin Strauss and it's very, _very _urgent." Erin carefully but quickly picked her way down the steps in her high heels, cursing the too-tight skirt she wore today.

"Gunther, there are two very dangerous agents in Walt Grensen's office at the moment, it is _imperitive _they do not leave. They must be held. I can't tell you that. Well, because I don't know. Goddamnit, Gunther, it's a hunch. Well when was the last time I was wrong about one of these? I understand. Thank you… Yes, that will be adequate. I have someone landing at 0600 tomorrow morning, that's plenty of time. It has to do with a case we're on now, I'm sure of it. Larry the Bull must be involved, Gunther…." Erin stopped in her tracks as silence was met her on the other end of her cell phone. After a moment she sighed relief. "Thank you, Gunther, I owe you big." Snapping the flip-phone shut she straightened her back as her driver came around, and hopped out to grab her door.

"Ma'am."

"Thank you, Gerald. The Waldorf, please."

**CMCMCMCMCM**

"What do you mean, she's pulling you into Washington?" Aaron threw down the pile of crime scene photos he had been carrying into his makeshift office at the Chicago Police Department.

"Just what I said, Aaron, I have to go. I'll explain when I know more." David knew he was being rude but he couldn't focus on anything but moving his feet as quickly as he could to the cab waiting for him outside of Headquarters. He slammed the door shut behind him and sprinted out the front doors.

"I'm in a hurry, Airport, the Executive hangar…" David thrust a hundred dollar bill into the cabby's hand, refusing to allow him to take his bags and instead shoving them in the back seat beside him.

"Yes sir!" The enthusiastic young man grinned at the enormous tip and hopped into the driver's seat with gusto.

David's chest was squeezing tight, and he was struggling to breathe normally. _"It's Annabeth." _Erin had said, and he thought his heart stopped for a moment. Had something happened to her? He punched Erin's number into his phone quickly, listening impatiently as it rang, once, twice, three times – then voicemail. "Goddamnit, Erin, is she okay? Call me back." He left his agitated message and hung up.

After fifteen agonizing minutes in the Taxi listening to terrible hip-hop music they finally arrived at the Security Checkpoint in the Executive Hangar of the Chicago Airport.

"My passenger is on the manifest, Sir. SSA David Rossi," the young black man assumed the voice of a hired driver, as he smoothly took Rossi's credentials from him and passed them to the Security Guard. David fidgeted as the Guard took his badge and disappeared back into the booth to check them out.

"Alright. Second hangar on the left, just up ahead." The man nodded and handed back the wallet to the driver, who passed them over his head back to Rossi.

"Here you are, Mister Rossi." The driver pulled to an exaggerated stop at the appropriate hangar, where a single jet engine was already starting to roar to life as David dragged his bag out of the backseat, too impatient for propriety at allowing the driver to do his job. "Thanks, kid." David gave him another tip without really looking at him and began jogging towards the plane.

As soon as he settled his phone sprang to life. "Erin, is she ok? Where is she? What's happened?"

"Calm down, David, she's fine. She's being held in the Pentagon at the moment, she'll be transferred to a safe holding cell soon…"

"WHAT?! WHY?! What happened? Erin are you behind this, I swear to God.."

"Jesus Christ, David –"

"You've always had it out for her, admit it-"

"Shut up, David, or I won't tell you anything more." Erin's voice had regained composure and he could tell her threat was serious.

"I'm listening."

"She's involved with some very dangerous people, David. I recognized her cohort, Clarence Jessup. He's a longtime Subdivision agent."

"Subdivision… as in, Larry Lawrence's break-off of the Teardrop Initiative?"

"The very one. This Numrich case, Rossi – I feel it in my gut, he's involved."

Erin gauged the silence carefully, and she could only imagine what he was thinking.

"I'm sure he is. We're taking off, Erin, conference me in 20 minutes."

"Will do."

David ended the call and let out a long sigh. The tightness in his chest had turned from dread and worry, to fear, mixed with anger. "Annabeth, what on earth are you doing with Larry the Bull…" he whispered, pulling at his goatee. Flipping open his laptop, he waited impatiently for Erin to connect with him after they cleared the air.

"_I wish you'd remember that I'm an adult sometimes." Annabeth said calmly, taking a bite from her sandwich and trying with much difficulty to keep from rolling her eyes at David._

"_I do remember, Bethy. I wish you'd remember that I only have your best interests at heart. This isn't a game, this is dangerous! You're not ready for an exploit of this magnitude!" David lost his temper finally, raising his voice and slamming his hand down on the kitchen island he had paced around for the last twenty minutes._

"_It's 24 hours. I'll be back in time for Thanksgiving dinner." She had lowered her voice, a sort of self-defense he knew she'd learned young, in order to cope with yelling grown-ups. He felt guilty for losing his temper, she of all people never deserved to be shouted at. _

"_It's an extraction in Siberia, Bethy…" He too lowered his voice, cracking at the last word as he said her name. _

_Annabeth looked into his eyes, didn't understand the begging in his voice she was registering, the fear on his face, the brokenness of his feelings. She couldn't abide those eyes, boring into her. She broke her own code and forced herself to break eye contact, looking back down at her food. _

"_If you do this, you're…" He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his fingers shaking with anxiety. "You don't… don't ask me to support you in this. Not ever. I don't want to know anymore about it. You obviously don't care what I think. Go. But don't involve me. Ever again." He left his own kitchen, feeling angry and wretched and guilty but mostly broken-hearted. He didn't think he'd ever see her again, and he was angry with her for separating them in this final way. _

David let out a ragged sigh, as the memory of the day their relationship had changed ran through his mind's eye, and a tear fell down his cheek. It had been his fault. As per usual. He'd driven her away, just like he did every woman in his life he'd ever loved.

**CMCMCMCMCM**


End file.
